"Have a seat," Riven said, gesturing to the empty chair at the other end of his desk as Thira stepped into the office.
This was supposed to be a routine meeting-formal orientation, a rundown of her responsibilities, a confident monologue about the dos and don'ts of the company, especially in her new role as the firm's financial analyst. Nothing he hadn't done thirty times before. But from the moment she walked in, Riven knew this wasn't going to follow the usual script.
He felt... off.
"Thank you," she replied quickly, easing herself into the chair with a posture that was almost militarily precise... back straight, shoulders squared, her hips just grazing the edge of the cushion. She didn't relax into the seat; she perched, alert.
From this angle, Riven found it nearly impossible to believe she had given birth, let alone to three children-triplets. Her form was taut, her body firm and flawless in a way that seemed to reject the notion of motherhood altogether. She was too sculpted. Too perfect. Too-
"Mr. Dax?"
Her voice snapped him out of it. He hadn't even realized how far he'd drifted. She had to tap his arm twice before he responded.
"Oh...yes. Yes," he mumbled, not even sure what he was agreeing to.
Still fogged by his own distracted thoughts, the next words tumbled out of his mouth unfiltered.
"Are you sure the kids are yours?"
Thira's brows pulled together sharply. "What? I beg your pardon?"
Riven froze. Brilliant. Just brilliant.
"I-eh..." He fumbled, groping for a lifeline, any reasonable follow-up that wouldn't make things worse.
But before he could drown further in his own embarrassment, Thira seemed to take mercy on him. Her expression softened as she released the knot in her brow.
"If it's about the kids, you don't need to worry," she said calmly. "They won't be coming with me to work. I can–"
"No, not at all," he cut in quickly, shaking his head, hands rising defensively. "That's not what I meant. Your kids are welcome. Anytime."
Kids? In the company building? What the hell was he even saying anymore?
Riven inhaled slowly, trying to collect what was left of his composure. "Follow me," he said, rising to his feet. "I'll show you to your office."
They walked together in silence, passing through the waiting area. But at the far end, his eyes locked onto a familiar presence-that man... Carden. Thira's supposed husband. He was lounging in a chair, scrolling through his phone like he owned the place.
Riven's blood heated in his veins. Why was he always here, orbiting around her like a satellite? What was he trying to prove?
He clenched his jaw and ran a hand through his hair.
"What is wrong with you, Riven? Why this level of possessiveness over someone else's wife?"
Thira's office was tucked in the corner. The door stood ajar, revealing a tidy brown filing cabinet and a dark walnut bookshelf that ran the length of the left-hand wall.
"Here we are," Riven said, pushing the door open and stepping aside for her to enter. His voice sounded too eager, too performative, even to his own ears.
"What's happening to me?" he thought. "She's an employee. Get a grip."
"Thank you," Thira replied, her voice soft as her heels sank lightly into the rug. Her eyes wandered the room, expression unreadable.
Just then, the man entered without knocking. Riven's jaw flexed.
"Hi," Carden said to Thira with a smile.
"Hi," she echoed, and silence fell like a curtain.
Riven should have left. He knew that. He was the third wheel now. But his feet refused to move. His gaze fixed on the man. Thira was too refined, too composed, too luminous for someone like him. She needed...
"Anything else, Mr. Dax?" Thira asked, clearing her throat gently.
"Oh-oh, nothing," he stammered. He turned toward the door, fumbling for dignity. "Have a great day."
He left and gently closed the door behind him-but he didn't go far.
He hovered just outside, close enough to hear.
"Where are the kids?" Thira asked.
"They needed the restroom," Carden answered.
"You know how funny they can be."
Laughter followed... hers first, then his. Riven imagined them leaning into each other, imagined her hand in his, maybe a kiss. Something twisted in his chest.
"I need to lay ground rules with Thira tomorrow," he thought grimly.
He turned and walked slowly back toward his own office, his steps heavy, unsettled. Every part of him screamed that something wasn't right-but he couldn't define it.
Back in his office, he found someone already waiting.
Sitting in his chair-his own chair...was Vela. His girlfriend, or more accurately, the woman who had decided to be his girlfriend and refused to be corrected on that fact.
"What are you doing here?" he asked quietly.
The top three buttons of her blouse were undone. She spun once in the chair before rising and walking toward him.
Riven watched her silently. Outside, he was composed. Inside, his mind was a battleground...torn between disgust, confusion, and a vague ache for something he couldn't name.
Was this really the same girl he had met five years ago? The mysterious woman who once intrigued him with her charm? Somehow, she'd evolved... or maybe regressed-into someone who now repulsed him.
She leaned in and kissed his cheek.
It felt like something wet and insectile crawling over his skin. He barely suppressed the urge to wipe it off.
"I said, what do you want?"
His voice exploded this time, echoing down the hallway like a snapped whip.
